


His Mother's Son

by Archraven



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-05 00:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15158567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archraven/pseuds/Archraven
Summary: When Sarah Sugden returns to Emmerdale, Robert’s life is turned upside-down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I am extremely new to the Robron fandom, so please forgive errors made in terms of characters or continuity. When I started watching the Robron storyline, I noticed how attached Robert seemed to be to his mother, which prompted me to learn more about Sarah Sugden, his adopted mother who died in a barn fire in 2000. A variety of tumblr gifs on Robert and Sarah’s relationship gave me a lot of feelings—that I simply had to bring her back to life to see how her presence would influence Robert and his relationships with others. 
> 
> I am so motivated by comments and would really love to hear your thoughts about this fic and discuss it with you. Please leave a comment below! 
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is set in January 2018. A few alterations made:
> 
> -Robert did sleep with Rebecca, but she never got pregnant, thus Sebastian doesn’t exist in this fic.   
> \- Everything else follows cannon. Robert and Aaron did break up over the cheating and Robert did do all that scheming with the White family.   
> \- The White family are all alive and well.  
> \- Andy is back in the village and is on civil terms with Robert. 
> 
> Warnings:  
> \- Mentions of long term captivity  
> \- Mentions of sexual abuse (Gordon)  
> \- Violence in future chapters

Aaron noticed the jumper first. He had seen many things driving down the country lanes of Emmerdale, but he had never seen such a hideous shade of lime green. He slowed down the car for a closer look and found the jumper attached to a lady. The lime green jumper accompanied a pair of black jeans that hung loose on her legs. She seemed to be coming from the old cottage further up the bridleway.

Aaron frowned. The cottage was on Emmerdale’s outskirts but he knew the man who lived there. A hunchbacked man with fire-stained scars that marked half his face, Keith Davidson rarely came into town. And with good reason, Aaron supposed. The last time Davidson entered the pub, few bothered to hide their gawping. But did Davidson have a wife?

Because that was what she looked like. The woman had to be in her early sixties, though she carried herself with a strength of someone younger.

Aaron inched the car closer to her. There was plenty of space for him to pass her by, but something about her posture drew his attention. She walked with her arms folded and head down, almost as if she was afraid to look back.

Lowering the window brought in a chill of January air. Aaron poked his head out. “You alright?”

The lady froze in her tracks and lifted her head. Up close, Aaron noted her bob of brunette hair, scattered with silver strands. Her sharp nose and cheekbones, combined with her hooded eyes, reminded Aaron of a hawk.

She looked familiar somehow. As if he’d seen her from a dream.

“Do you need a lift to town?” Aaron asked.

The woman drew in a shuddering breath and when she spoke, her voice was sharp. “Don’t suppose you’re heading to the Woolpack pub are you?”

Aaron lifted his brows. He was, but the pub was at least another seven miles away. Had she really been prepared to walk that far?

“I am,” Aaron said. “You can get in.”

She nodded and seated herself in the passenger seat. Aaron drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as she took a while to fasten her seatbelt. Once she was done, he started driving and an awkward silence filled the car.

Aaron sneaked a glance at the lady. She didn’t seem inclined to talk anyway, seeming absorbed at looking out of the window at the approaching hills. Every few minutes, her face crumbled as if she was going to cry, but then she clenched her jaw and her features settled again into a stoic mask.

Aaron resisted the urge to sigh. What if the lady was dangerous? Though she didn’t look like it, it would just be his luck to get stuck in a car with an escaped serial killer. He was already having a bad day, having argued with Alex that morning.

_“You kept looking at him the whole time, Aaron! We were supposed to be having dinner together but I might as well have been talking to a brick wall!”_

_“Alex, mate, it wasn’t like that—_

_“We’ll talk about this later, Aaron. I need to go to work.”_

Aaron scowled as he turned the corner. Why did things have to be so complicated? And he hadn’t been looking at Robert anyway. Even if Robert _had_ worn the turquoise shirt Aaron had bought him for his last birthday. The same one that brought out Robert’s eyes and fitted his frame perfectly—

Aaron shook his head like he was trying to get rid of fly. _Not thinking about Robert, not thinking about Robert—_

“Something irritating you?” The woman asked.

“Just a prat,” Aaron muttered. Even when Robert tried staying out of his way, the man still caused trouble.

The car passed the ‘Welcome to Emmerdale’ post and whizzed by the rows of houses. Aaron couldn’t help but notice that the woman’s fists were clenched in her lap as she stared at the surroundings.  

“What’s your name?” Aaron asked.

“Sarah,” the lady replied in a distant tone. “Sarah Sug-” She cut herself off and looked at him. “What’s yours?”

“Aaron.”

Surprise flitted through her face. “Aaron Dingle?”

“That’s me.”

“You have lovely blue eyes, Aaron.” Sarah offered him a faint smile, tinged with warmth.

Aaron’s heart twisted. For a split second, he remembered large hands cradling his face, warm breath brushing his cheek— _“Could look into your eyes forever”—_

“Thanks,” Aaron said gruffly. He added as an afterthought. “You too.”

Sarah laughed. She had a nice laugh, that creased the wrinkles around her eyes. “Thank you for trying to compliment an old lady.”

Aaron stammered, unsure if he was meant to debate the ‘old lady’ statement or not. He was saved from another awkward silence as they reached the pub.

Aaron got out of the car, frowning at the way Sarah just stared at everything. She almost fell as she vacated the car, and Aaron hurried to support her side. Placing an arm around her waist, and another on her wrist, Aaron helped her cross the road.

“I think you need to get some food down you,” Aaron told Sarah as they entered the pub. “Vic makes great lunches.”

Sarah startled out of her trance-like state. “Vic?”

“Yeah, she’s one of our chefs.” Aaron helped her to sit at the counter. “Do you have any money on you?”

Sarah bit her lip. “Do you know where I can use the telephone, Aaron?”

“You can use mine.” Aaron unlocked his mobile and handed it to her.

Sarah bit her lip. Her fingers hovered over the phone, unsure, and Aaron could have kicked himself. Course old people struggled with using iphones. Even Chas had only just figured out wattsup.

Aaron took the phone from her. “What number was it you wanted?”

Sarah snorted. “I assume it’s still 999?”

“You what?” Aaron’s words were drowned out by the sound of glass shattering. Turning, Aaron saw Paddy. The man’s beer cup lay in shards by his feet as he stared at Sarah, his eyes bulging.

“Sarah.” Paddy breathed.

Sarah gave him a strained smile though her fingers fidgeted with each other. “Always knew you’d lose your hair, Paddy.”

Aaron glanced at Sarah. “You know Paddy?”

His question was against left unanswered as a crash splintered through the air. Aaron spun around, only to see Chas with her hands lax and the tray of drinks she had been carrying on the floor.

“Really?” Aaron scowled at the sight of his mother’s startled face. “Anyone mind explaining to me what’s going on?”

The pub had gone silent, with many customers turning their heads. The hush that followed was suffocating, broken only by a few gasps and mutters. The kitchen door swung open and Vic stepped out in her chef uniform—probably checking on the continuous sounds of cutlery smashing.   

What happened next went over Aaron’s head. Vic screamed, her face draining of colour and tears forming in her eyes. She backed away into the kitchen door, sobs escaping her. Protectiveness surged in Aaron and he hurried forward—but Sarah was quicker. She stumbled off the counter stool and moved to Vic. Her hands shook as she reached out.

“Oh my god, Vic,” Sarah whispered. “Look at you, my baby girl.”

“Mum!” Vic ran forward and drew Sarah into a tight hug. “Mum, mum, mum.”

Cold understanding settled in the pit of Aaron’s stomach. Sarah. Sarah Sugden. Robert’s mum. The woman who should be dead.

“But you’re dead, mum,” Vic cried. She buried her head in Sarah’s chest, her body wracking with each sob. “You died!”

Sarah clung onto Vic, her knuckles white, and something like wonder and grief warring on her face. Her hand shook as she stroked Vic’s head.

“Sarah Sugden,” Paddy finally said. “Where-where have you been?”

Sarah looked up. A haunted expression was carved into her face, but there was a stubborn set to her jaw that Aaron recognised only too well.

“At Rosestone cottage,” Sarah said with an eerie blankness to her voice. “Keith Davidson has been holding me captive at Rosestone cottage. For eighteen years.”

 

* * *

 

The pub was sparse, with most of the customers having been chased away. Chas had even threatened some reluctant customers with a can-opener. Only some were allowed to stay—most of the Dingle clan, a few Bartons, Paddy and Liv.

Vic wouldn’t let go of Sarah. She had always seemed younger than her years, but now, with her large eyes never leaving Sarah, and the way she curled up at Sarah’s side, she looked like a lost child clinging to her parent.

Aaron stayed on the outskirt of the crowd scattered around the pub, not wanting to draw attention to himself. When the police came an hour ago, they had interviewed Sarah in the Woolpack’s back room before asking Aaron for more details. He had told them everything he’d seen that afternoon and seeming satisfied, they had left.

It was just as the door swung shut after the police, that Andy had entered, and the wails and screams that came from the man made Aaron wish he had left with the detectives. Andy had collapsed onto his knees, half crawling to hug Sarah around her waist. For a few long minutes, Andy was an inconsolable wreck, with nothing but ‘sorry’ coming out of him. But Sarah had embraced him back, pressing kiss on Andy’s downturned head. Sarah’s voice broke as she told him to get up, that it was okay, that she had never blamed him, that she loved him so much and how he had grown—

Aaron had just watched, one arm slung over Liv’s shoulder to keep her close. It felt wrong to watch the display of affection, to see Andy cry so freely.

“Not so little anymore, are you?” Sarah had joked, and as a few in the pub chuckled, it seemed to give Andy the strength to stand up and wipe at his eyes.

And now, Sarah Sugden sat at the table in front of the bar counter, with Vic on her right and Andy on her left.  

“Are you sure you don’t need the hospital, love?” Chas asked, putting a cup of tea in front of Sarah.

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Sarah said. “I’m not hurt.”

“What happened, mum?” Andy asked.

Sarah swallowed hard and started to speak. She spoke for a while, and Aaron caught most of it—rescued from the fire at the last second, dragged to the Rosestone cottage by Davidson without anyone knowing, shackled to a long chain that allowed her to move freely only in the house, forced to play wife to the lonely monster. And escape. Finally.

There was more—Aaron could tell from her haunted eyes, but he knew that she hid it for the benefit of Andy and Vic, who both looked as though they would crumble at another word. Aaron couldn’t imagine it. The pain they had to feel to know that their mother had been just a car ride away all these years. He felt for them, he really did.

But Robert. Robert was going to implode. Aaron knew it. He knew it as well as he knew about the tears Robert furtively wiped away every Mother’s Day, about the occasional nightmares Robert woke up from, about the bitterness Robert felt whenever Chas mollycoddled Aaron.

Robert was not going to take this well.

“I can’t believe it,” Vic murmured. “You’ve been so close. All this time…”

Andy wrenched himself to his feet. He pulled out his phone and stormed to the back room of the pub. No one made any move to stop him though Sarah frowned concernedly in his direction.

“Where’s Davidson now?” The question came from Cain, who hulked by the counter with his arms crossed.

“The police would have got him by now,” Sarah said with a flicker of a smirk. “I locked him into the cupboard.”

Charity swore. “Should have cut off his nose while you were at it, love. And I don’t understand. Why come to the pub first? Why not stop at the police station.”

Sarah smiled, and Aaron couldn’t help but admire her sheer will at pretending that this was normal. That everything was okay now that she had escaped. “I had to make people see me. I couldn’t trust the police—Davidson paid a few of them off back when—” Her smile fell. “Back during the fire. To lie about my body.”

Aaron’s stomach churned. He felt bile hit the back of his throat. Eighteen years. Kept like a pet for eighteen years. He felt Liv shift closer to him and he hugged her to him tighter.

“I’ve escaped from the cottage before,” Sarah said. “I’ve run down those country roads five times before, but he caught me each time. Just had to drive his tractor and reel me in again.” She looked around, and Aaron straightened as her eyes landed on him. “I thought it would the same again today. But Aaron found me before Davidson did.”

Aaron shifted uncomfortably as all eyes turned to him. He muttered, “It was nothing. Just gave a lady a lift, that’s all.” Vic was looking at him as though he was an angel sent from the heavens, and Chas was beaming, pride infusing her features. Aaron scowled and hunched his shoulders. There was nothing to beam and be happy about. Robert. Robert was going to lose it, and Aaron didn’t understand how no one was thinking about how they were going to break it to Robert, how they were going to tell him without—

 “It’s not a sick joke!” Andy’s voice boomed from the backroom before he burst through the door adjoining the house with the pub. He gritted his teeth and slapped a hand on the counter. “Mum’s really here, you idiot! She’s alive!”

Aaron sighed and leaned against the wall. Well, so much for tact.

The pub door opened and Aaron’s breath hitched to see Robert stride it, his mobile still pressed to his ear. His body was rigid and his eyebrows drawn into a heavy scowl. He wasn’t wearing his usual winter coat and Aaron wondered from where he had raced from upon receiving Andy’s call.

“If you say that one more time—” Robert’s snarl into the phone halted as he saw the crowd of people looking at him. “What?”

That was when Robert saw. And Aaron dug his nails into his palm, because he shouldn’t care that much for the way his ex-husband’s eyes widened, for the way his ex-husband dropped his phone, for the way his ex-husband mouth twisted like it always did when he was trying to stifle a cry.

Sarah rose to her feet. Her mouth had slackened. For a few seconds, her eyes scanned Robert’s face, hungrily drinking in every feature. The smile that spread across her face was pure joy, even as tears trailed down her cheeks. She took a step forward, not seeming to notice that Robert took a mirroring step back.

“My boy,” Sarah said softly. “Oh, my beautiful boy.”

Robert lurched—and Aaron pushed himself off the wall to go catch—but Robert grabbed at a table to steady himself. His breaths came out as rasps as he stared at Sarah with something akin to horror etched on his ashen face.

“It’s really mum, Robert,” Vic said in a small voice.

Robert took a few more jerky steps back, before barrelling through the pub door. Aaron’s heart clenched as Sarah didn’t move. She simply gazed at where Robert stood, almost in a daze.

Andy tenderly manoeuvred Sarah to sit back down. She pressed a hand to her heart, her smile making her whole face glow. Giddiness laced her voice. “Did you see him? My son? Oh, he’s grown so much. He’s so tall, so beautiful.”

Charity made a face, ready to make a smart comment, when Aaron caught her eye and shook his head firmly. Not the time.

“I’ll get him back here,” Andy said, but Sarah took his hand.  

“Not now, dear,” Sarah chuckled and dabbed at her tears. “You know, he ran away from the farm when he was nine. But he came back soon enough. I’ll see him once he’s calmed down.”

And as the chatter continued, Aaron slipped away to the pub door. Liv casted him a disapproving look, but Aaron could only offer an apologetic shrug before he escaped the pub’s stifling air and walked through the darkened streets. A lot would need to be sorted tonight—Vic and Andy will probably insist on bring Sarah to the hospital for a check-up, the detectives will probably return with more news and more questions, the pub will need to be re-opened for dinner—but there was only one thing Aaron needed to sort out.

He wrapped his coat around him tighter and plodded on, ignoring his mobile vibrating with Alex’s ninth call.

He knew exactly where Robert would be.


	2. Robert

Robert raced through Emmerdale’s streets. He ignored the cold chill seeping into his skin, the aching of his legs, and the numbness of his hands. Instead, he focused on moving forward, barrelling past scores of people. Some of the passerbys looked concerned as he jogged past them—either concerned about his pale face or his heaving breaths. But Robert didn’t care. There was a high pitched scream building up in his mind, removing all thoughts except for one.

Mum.

Mum was alive.

He had gone into Woolpack, ready to punch Andy in his bloody face because there were some things people didn’t—shouldn’t—joke about, and saying that Sarah alive and breathing was one of them.

But she’d been there. Older, and gaunter, and with more grey hairs and wrinkles. But her confident posture, the sheer love glittering in her eyes was the same. Sarah was alive. His mother was alive, and she was beautiful.  

Robert keeled over by the graveyard’s gate, gasping for air even as a cry wracked his body. His mother had looked so beautiful, standing there in the pub.

Nausea slammed into Robert, and he managed to stagger to the corner of the graveyard keeper’s shed. He retched but nothing came out. Robert coughed and straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt strange. Off centre. As if the world had turned too fast and he had failed to keep pace.

There had been tears in Sarah’s eyes when she looked at him. Why? Why had she cried after seeing him? Did she already know—

She had smiled too, a little voice in Robert’s head that sounded a lot like his ten-year-old self piped up. She had smiled because she was happy to see him.

Robert clutched his stomach as another wave of nausea hit him. She wouldn’t be happy much longer. Not when she found out about what he had done, what he had been doing for the past eighteen years.

In the end, his legs led him to her grave. He collapsed in front of the headstone, the lump in his throat growing larger at the sight of her name. ‘Sarah Sugden. Wife of Jack and Devoted Mother to Robert, Andy and Victoria’.

How could she be alive?

Robert brought his knees to his chest and rested his forehead against them. He sniffed, tears beginning to dampen his trousers. Held a prisoner, Andy had said on the phone. At Rosestone cottage.

For eighteen years.

Robert thudded his forehead against his knees. All those times when he had needed his mother. When he had hugged her grave, begging her to come back, pouring out his heart to her, and Sarah Sugden had been just a stone throw away. Robert felt like screaming, like breaking something, anything to get rid of the hard knot of pain and regret in his chest. He had needed her so so much. When he found out that Andy had started the fire, when he started scheming and doing terrible things to ruin Andy’s life, to ruin everyone’s lives, when he had the affair, when—Robert twisted his wedding ring and pressed his lips to it—when Aaron left him.

How he had needed her, and yearned for her, and she had been a car journey away.

Robert snorted and shook his head. Typical. There he went, thinking of himself again, thinking of how he had needed her. Guilt curdled his stomach. She had needed him. Locked up for eighteen years. How she must have felt, how she must have cried. And it was all because Robert had given up on her. Just left her for dead. He should have investigated more. Robert bit his lip, almost drawing blood. His mother had needed her son.

Something touched his shoulders and Robert startled, looking up. It was Aaron, wrapping his coat around Robert’s shoulders.

“You’re gonna catch a cold wearing just that shirt,” Aaron said, stuffing his hands into his hoodie’s pockets. His face was a mask of stoicism, as it always was, but Robert heard the concern in his words.

“My mother,” Robert croaked out. “She’s alive.”

“I know.” Aaron cocked his head. “Was in the pub, wasn’t I? So you gonna see her or what?”

Despite himself, Robert smiled. It was typical for Aaron to gruffly just lay things out. Robert felt his frayed nerves settle slightly. “It’s not that easy.”

Aaron sighed and scuffed his shoes against the ground. “Robert, look, I know it’s not easy but...” His blue eyes looked at Robert beseechingly and it took everything Robert had not to fling himself into Aaron’s arms.

He yearned for his husband to hold him.

“But what?” Robert asked.

“She needs you, Robert. She really does.”

Robert’s breath shuttered. “She’s going to hate me.” Just the thought made him feel nauseous again. “She’s going to hate me once she finds out who I’ve become—”

The touch of cold fingers against his cheek stilled Robert’s tongue. He stared up at his husband, resisting the urge to incline his face and kiss Aaron’s fingertips.

“She won’t,” Aaron said, and the confidence in his voice sent a strange warmth into Robert’s chest, giving him strength. “I never could, could I?”

Robert chuckled. “You wanted me dead once, Aaron.”

Aaron’s grimaced. “I never meant it.”

Robert looked back at the ground, brushing Aaron’s fingers away and missing the tingle of his touch. “She’s going to be so disappointed.”

“Sarah called you beautiful.” Aaron smiled as Robert jerked up his head. “She said you were so tall and so beautiful.”

The lump in Robert’s throat splintered and tears welled up in his eyes again. “So is she. Isn’t she beautiful, Aaron?”

“Yeah.” Aaron clasped his shoulder. “Go see her, Robert. Now.”

And with a watery smile, Robert nodded.

                                                         

* * *

 

 

The kitchen lights of Vic’s cottage were still as Robert entered. He shut the front door behind him and creeped into the kitchen. His heart pounded and raced even more at the sight of Sarah sat in the middle of the kitchen sofa.

“Robert,” Sarah breathed as she straightened. Vic was curled up asleep next to her, occupying most of the sofa.

Sarah looked exactly like Robert remembered. Gaunter and older, with tiredness etched in the large bags under her eyes. But the stubborn lines on her face were the same, the way her eyes softened at the sight of him was the same, the stern curve of her mouth was the same. He couldn’t believe it.

Robert said, “Mum.”

Sarah’s face twisted, as if she was about to cry, and she rose from the sofa. But Robert flinched, and she composed her face and sat back down again.

Robert took a step forward. Then another. And another. Until he was stood right in front of Sarah. Grabbing a chair from the table, he sat down in front of her.

“Mum,” Robert whispered. He could see Sarah’s fingers itching to grab to him, to hold him. And he wanted too—god, he wanted to be in her embrace—but Sarah needed to know first.

“Spit it out then,” Sarah said. “Whatever it is you wanted to say.”

Robert snorted. She always could read him like a book. “Andy said that you’ve been locked up—”

“We’re not talking about that now,” Sarah cut him off in an imperious tone. “Something is obviously playing on your mind, enough to stop you from hugging your mother, so say it. Now.”

Robert’s mouth went dry. He remembered now, how much it had stung to be lashed by her tongue. “You’re happy to see me.”

Sarah laughed, new tears springing to her eyes. “Happy? Do you know how long I’ve wished to see even just a picture of the man you are now. Look at you, Robert. You’re beautiful—”

“Don’t say that,” Robert flicked his head. “I’m—I’m not what you think.”

“Why? Because you had multiple affairs?” Sarah’s voice was cold. “Because you schemed and manipulated? Because you made money your god?”

Robert stared at her. His heart wouldn’t stop trashing in his chest. “How did you—”

“Davidson was always happy to tell about what you, Vic and Andy were up to,” Sarah said. Her fists were clenched. “He particularly took pleasure in telling me the dastardly bad events.”

Robert stood up. He couldn’t look at her. The hate in her eyes would kill him. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Sit.”

Robert’s childhood instinct of obeying Sarah when she used _that_ tone reared within him, and he sat down on the kitchen chair.

Sarah sighed. “Not there.” She patted the sofa cushion on her right. “Here.”

Keeping his eyes on the ground, Robert moved next to her. He waited for the angry remands, but instead, a hand carded through his hair. Robert’s shoulders relaxed as Sarah pulled his head to rest against her shoulder.

“My baby boy,” Sarah whispered, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. Robert closed his eyes, feeling tears starting to brim. It felt like he was ten years old again, being comforted after being bullied at school.

“Do you hate me?” Robert barely recognised his small voice.

Sarah chuckled and hugged him closer. “How could I?”

“But all the things I did—”

“I’m sure you’re very sorry for doing them,” Sarah said firmly. “In any case, you’re still my son, and I love you. I always have and I always will. I may be disappointed by some of your actions, but Robert—oh my dear, sweet Robert, how could I ever hate you for them? I love you so much, my darling.”

Love. It was the same unconditional love he hadn’t felt since she left, and Robert couldn’t stop the ragged sob that burst out of him. “I’m sorry, mum.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck. “I didn’t know. I would have rescued you if I did. I’m so sorry.”

She hushed him, stroking his hair, but his sobs turned into aching cries and they wouldn’t stop. He held Sarah tightly, never wanting to let go, and she held him back, muttering words of comfort and wiping at his tears. She kept saying that he wasn’t to know, that she never blamed him for giving her up for dead, but Robert heard tremble in her voice. He knew from the haunted look in her eyes that she had hoped. Hoped for him to come save her. Hoped for her children to rescue her from a madman.

It made Robert cry harder. He held his mother’s hands and cried for the years he had to live without her, for the wasted opportunities, for the regret and guilt that refused to leave his bones, and for his mother’s pain.

By the time he stopped, the clock struck midnight. Robert had slid onto the floor, and his head rested in Sarah’s lap. She stroked his hair, like she used to when he was a child, and more than once, he felt himself drift close to sleep.  

Robert’s eyes were scratchy and he could only hope that they weren’t as bloodshot as they felt.

“Mum, tell me.” His voice was hoarse from the crying. “Tell me about what happened. I know that Davidson locked you up, and that you’ve been there all this time, but what happened inside that Rosestone cottage.” Horrific vision plagued his mind. “What did he do?”

Sarah shook her head. “That’s only for me and the police to know. I don’t want you kids involved.”

Robert scowled, though the knot in his chest had relaxed at her words. He didn’t want to know about the horrors she had to face. Not really. He yawned. “Mum, I’m not a kid. I’m over thirty.”

Sarah laughed. “You’re not a day older than ten to me.”

Robert felt his eyes drift close. “Got so much to tell you, mum. All the good stuff...and all the bad stuff.”  

“Yes.”

“I got married,” Robert muttered. “To a man.

“Yes, to Aaron. I met him before.”

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Sleep was edging even closer.

“Yes.” Sarah’s voice was warm. “He is.”

“I need to tell you all about him, mum.”

“Okay, Robert.”

“And I’m gonna make you happy, mum,” Robert slurred his words. “So happy. I promise.”

He felt her hand cup his cheek. With a hum, he leaned into her touch, and just before he fell into the abyss of sleep, he heard her whisper.

“As will I, Robert. Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Please, please do leave a comment for me - what did you enjoy about this chapter, what did you think could be improved? =) I absolutely love reading your opinions and comments motivate me so much! Thank you! xxx
> 
> Next chapter: Aaron (and the rest of Emmerdale) is confused by Robert's new style.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do leave me with your thoughts! Thank you! x


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